


Where's my...?

by fiendingforthesunshine



Series: The Disabled Military Veteran AU [9]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Blind Character, Gen, Just being careful, Military veteran, but honestly I'm not sure, possibly a little bit of ableist language from Spencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:02:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiendingforthesunshine/pseuds/fiendingforthesunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon is honestly one of the messiest people known to man.</p><p>*Set six months after Stars and Glitter*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where's my...?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. It's been a while. I'm sorry. And this isn't the most amazing thing I've written I just wanted to get it out there. Hopefully you still like it anyway!

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Brendon commented as he sat down on the hotel bed and toed off his shoes. 

“I thought Operation Proper Exit was the worst idea I ever had?” Spencer asked, setting his duffle bag on the desk chair next to the bed by the window. The curtains were drawn back, giving only Spencer the view of the city below them. 

Brendon scoffed, “That was a terrible idea, yes, but this… this is the worst idea,” he reached behind himself and slide his hand along the comforter, looking for his cell phone. 

Spencer spotted the device and slide it across the sheets to bump against Brendon’s hands, “It’s nothing, Brendon. It’s a press conference at the base and a talk show. You love to talk, it’ll be fine.” 

It had been nearly six months since Brendon, Spencer, Ryan and Jon had returned back stateside and the public was getting antsy. Most of what had happened was classified, things like the exact location of the incident and the names of those involved in the rescue mission but the quartet had become what one might consider celebrities.

Teenage girls were tweeting about them, conservative nutjobs were writing articles and democratic looneytoons were talking about them on radio shows. 

While the internet flared with crazy loudly and often, most people just wanted to know how they were fairing and the government had cleared them on a few talking points, given a journalist from ABC the opportunity to speak to them, and cleared a press conference with military personnel and the senate in Washington, DC.

Ryan had flown in earlier in the day and was waiting to meet them for a late lunch and Jon was flying in tomorrow. While Spencer and Brendon had been keeping up with them this was the first time they would see each other since the hospital. 

“Ugh. Just. I was hoping to hide from the rabid mob a little bit longer, you know?” 

“Well, Ryan is about to become rabid if we don’t get down to the lobby, you’ve seen the guy without food.”

Brendon pocketed his phone and dragged himself out the door behind Spencer.

\--

“Did it sound a little bit like that general doesn’t trust us to anyone else, or just me?” Brendon asked while fiddling with the pins on his jacket. 

“Nope,” Spencer answered, “Just you.” 

Jon snickered from his seat. They were all currently sitting in an empty office in the building they were going to be giving their military press conference in. A general had come in and given them a lecture about what was classified and what wasn’t, sparing more than a few glances at Brendon (that the general seemed to forget he couldn’t see) and repeating more than a few times that, “just because we’re letting you speak doesn’t mean you can run with it wherever you want”.

“Why would it be me? I was Special Forces, if anyone knows how to keep secrets it’s me.” 

Spencer scoffed, Jon blinked and Ryan;

“I know every side dish and main course to every birthday dinner you’ve ever had, and I’ve never even been to one,” Ryan pushed Brendon’s side with his foot from where he was sitting, not even glancing up from his phone. 

Brendon groaned and slid down further into his seat, just as he was about to respond the assistant to the general walked in and called them to the press conference. 

\--

After the press conference, which went surprisingly well and didn’t involve any major security snafus, the quartet returned back to the hotel to get ready for their second interview. 

“Spencer, I can’t find my socks,” Brendon grumbled as he felt around in his duffle bag, a new pair of khaki pants on but his button up shirt thrown over the headboard to “get rid of the wrinkles”. 

“Where did you have them last?” Spencer asked without looking up from the process of buttoning up his own shirt.

Brendon groaned, standing up and walking around the edge of the bed to where his backpack was, gliding his hand along the comforter, “If I knew that they wouldn’t be lost, would they?” 

“Honestly, how do you even get anywhere in your daily life when you can’t even keep track of your socks? Shouldn’t you just remember where you put things?” 

“I’m blind,” Brendon put a rather large amount of emphasis on both words, tossing a t-shirt towards Spencer, grazing the other man’s arm as he continued to feel around his backpack. 

“Dude, you’re blind? I had no idea,” Spencer wadded the t-shirt back up and tossed it, beaming Brendon in the head. 

“Man, shut up and just help me find my socks, okay?” 

\--

At the end of the interview, after they all shook hands with the journalist and started to file out, Spencer spotted Brendon’s phone sitting innocently in the chair Brendon had occupied for the interview. 

Spencer picked it up, “Hey, Brendon, you missing anything?” Spencer quickly tossed the phone to Jon, his reflexes way better than anyone gives credit for, who caught it and put it in his pocket. 

Brendon was in the process of unfolding his cane while Ryan was looking back and forth between Spencer and Jon. 

“What?” Brendon muttered, feeling around his pockets, realization dawning, “Where’s my phone?”


End file.
